Misericordia
by Casa Circe
Summary: Post-series. A dark theory on Azula's trajectory to madness and defeat. Banished to a stone tower, guilt and hatred gnaw at the former princess' consciousness and she resolves to escape her prison once and for all. Rated T for character death.Please R n R


MISERICORDIA

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. No claims whatsoever. This is purely for entertainment purposes._

_NOTE: Finally. Here is the fourth of four, non-sequential one-shots. Just some ideas and plot bunnies I couldn't get out of my head so please don't expect anything remotely good. And furthermore, I apologize for the delay. I got a bad case of "Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" fever, a hangover of which I am still suffering._

_This is another dark, Azula-centric piece that is set after the defeat of the Fire Lord, probably the darkest yet. Just a very disturbing and tragic plot bunny that has been gnawing at my brain for quite some time now. The perspective jumps to flashbacks rather arbitrarily because of the rather stream-of-consciousness style I wanted to adapt. Warning for OOCness for some characters. A highly unlikely plot and you might not find this very good but I hope you still enjoy somehow and reviews are dearly appreciated. Thank you._

_--_

She gazed blankly out the small, solitary window of her cell. The same sight met her cold, mirthless eyes. Nothing. Nothing was out there, and nothing would ever be.

Her brow furrowed at this and she crossed her arms, leaning against the cold, stone walls of the tower. She glanced around her cramped, squalid quarters, with the minimal furnishings, none but the most basic necessities for survival. Everything in this cell was made either of dusty stone or rusting metal. The only exceptions were the rough, heavy woven sheets that served as blankets, the few dark, peasant's garments that served as her entire wardrobe, and the monthly ration of hard, stale bread, and poison-tasting water.

She pursed her lips at the sight of the insect-infested meal on the table and her eyes followed the trail of a dark cockroach that had emerged from her moldy loaf of bread. The creature scuttled along the table, bearing a piece of the disgusting pastry, minding its own business.

And then, with a sudden, swift, powerful movement, Azula crushed the unsuspecting cockroach with her fist, sending spurts of insect blood spraying across the table. Adding extra force to her blow, she made sure that the entire creature was severely squashed beyond all recognition. Azula's eyes had a wild look in them as she relished the feeling of power over a weaker being. It had been a while since she felt this way. However, the euphoria at death passed and she lazily wiped her bloodied fist along the walls of the narrow room, staining the dark stone with yet another layer of filth.

Azula turned her hand this way and that, gazing idly at her long, dark nails which were now turning rather filthy and short. They were not as sharp as they used to be. A chilly breeze entered the solitary window of the tower. The draft, though not uncommon, made Azula shiver. She rubbed her shoulders quickly as her body shook from the cold. This incident gave her yet another cause to frown and she gritted her teeth more because of fury than because of the cold.

_This would never be a problem if I had my bending_, she thought bitterly. But as it was, she did not have her bending, it had been taken from her on the very day that the Avatar defeated her father. Her face contorted with anger as she recalled that fateful day, the day Sozin's comet had arrived, and everything she had known had been shattered.

The Avatar and his forces did not come as a surprise to Azula and Ozai. In fact, they had been planning for this final showdown for a long time. There was a fierce and unsurpassable clash between the vast armies of the Phoenix Lord and the gathered forces from the rest of the Four Nations. Swords clanged violently against each other, arrows flew in iron tempests, and the elements were pitted against each other in a furious discord that no one had ever known before. Battle cries and the screams of the wounded resounded across the field. The ground had been soaked in the intermingled blood of allies and enemies. And the sky was blackened by the numerous explosions caused by the Fire Nation army's large weapons and tanks.

And yet, despite the combined strength of the Avatar's friends and allies, even including Azula's brother, mother, and uncle, as well as her former followers, Mai and Ty Lee, the Fire Nation had still been winning. _She _was winning and she grinned maniacally as she watched the others fall. The Avatar was busy fighting a highly one-sided duel with her father while she was easily winning over her brother in an Agni Kai. The comet's arrival had greatly amplified her and her father's powers and they had no doubt that victory would soon be theirs.

But something had happened that day that did not figure in either Azula or Ozai's calculations. In the heat of the battle, two majestic creatures had emerged from the Avatar's side. These amazing beasts had tipped the scales in the Avatar's favor and soon the Phoenix Lord's troops began to waver. Azula remembered looking up in incredulity only to come face to face with an enormous, scaly face. A dragon.

"It can't be," she remembered muttering incredulously, "you're supposed to be extinct."

Her eyes had widened then and she had struggled to regain control. She abandoned her fight with Zuko, who didn't seem too surprised to see the dragons. He simply took a few steps behind, carefully and respectfully giving the fight to the dragon. Azula's surprise was short-lived and she quickly gathered her wits to face the fell beast. She refused to be beaten today and nothing would stop her from attaining supreme power. She turned to face the dragon fearlessly, raising her hands in a defensive position. The creature bent its huge head, taking a deep breath, as if preparing to strike.

Azula narrowed her golden eyes and took a deep breath as well. No matter what it took, she would emerge as the victor in this fight. And yet, just when she had aimed a particularly powerful blue fire blast straight at the dragon's scaly face, she felt a surge of triumph. The dragon made no move to block the flames and Azula had smiled sinisterly.

However, the creature had opened its fanged mouth to do something the firebending prodigy never expected. With a powerful gulp, the blue dragon had swallowed all of Azula's fire and the princess felt herself weakened considerably. Initially unfazed by this action, she had tried to fire another blow at the dragon but to her horror, no flames emerged from her fingertips. The dragon took one final (and seemingly pitiful) glance at her before soaring off to other parts of the battlefield. Azula had tried and tried to firebend but not even a wisp of smoke had come from her hands or feet. She had roared in frustration, grabbing a sword and madly slashing at everyone who blocked her path.

And now, as she stood banished to this isolated stone tower in the middle of the tundra, Azula clenched her fists and willed the fire to come out which used to be so effortless. But nothing came out, there was not even a change in temperature. Although it had been three years, Azula still could not accept that the dragon had taken her bending.

"_You have been judged unworthy of the fire."_

How dare they judge her unworthy? Who were they, anyway, to make such a stupid decision? She was a firebending prodigy, a legend in her own generation, a firebender unsurpassed by anyone else. She was the Fire Lord. She only answered to her own judgment. No one deserved so much power as much as she did, she could wield power expertly and effortlessly.

"…_unworthy.."_

She fumed as much as she could at the memory. She was deemed _inferior_. That was absolutely preposterous. If anyone was unworthy, it was her stupid, talent-less brother, or her kooky, tea-loving uncle, but not her. She did not belong in that, substandard category.

In another fit of exasperation, Azula kicked the rickety metal table in her solitary room, causing her "supper" of moldy bread to fall in a crumbling heap on the stone floor. Her thin, bony shoulders were heaving as she struggled to regain composure. A cloud of dust appeared from where the table fell.

Azula leaned against the wall, her pale hands grasping the crevices between the stones for support. She had grown weaker, not just because she had lost her bending, but because she refused to consume the meager, disgusting fare she was granted every month. The terrible quality of the rations was almost tantamount to poison and she refused to give those fools the satisfaction of finally getting rid of her.

Azula closed her eyes and took another deep breath, feeling slightly dizzy after the intense but small moment of triumph. And while her mind faltered, she was still able to remember those dreadful moments of her defeat. The images flashed in a strange blur before her, even as her vision turned foggy.

The Avatar and the Phoenix Lord continued their epic duel, but Ozai was beginning to realize the futility of his efforts. Contrary to his expectations, his powers seemed to be dwindling as every moment passed while the Avatar seemed to be gaining more strength. Around Ozai, he could sense that his armies were somehow faltering in their resolve and that surrender was nigh. Even Azula seemed struck down somehow. It wasn't so much the decrease in his power that served as Ozai's downfall. It was his underestimation of his opponents.

The comet which was supposed to be granting them supreme power was now turning against them, granting amazing strength to the Avatar instead of them. Nothing had been going according to plan anymore. The details of this devastating final confrontation were lost on Azula.

All she could recall was a sense of falling, tumbling into a dark abyss that she couldn't seem to escape. It was an alien feeling, defeat, and she did not know how to handle it. There were cries of victory around her but she could hear nothing but the silence of her own descent.

At first she had been able to fend off the attacks using a variety of weapons. After all, even without her bending, she was still a formidable fighter. But the Avatar's strange power seemed to suck out all of her strength. She faltered, she tripped, and she fell. And she wasn't even able to witness her father's ultimate demise because she had been so completely engulfed in her own downfall. Everything had gone wrong for her, for the very first time in her life, and she hated that feeling, of weakness and conquest.

Everything had fallen.

And in that moment of sublime helplessness, Azula went numb and seemed resigned to her fate. She could not bear to live in the shadow of such a disgraceful defeat. A large blast of fire from one of the comet's explosions came towards her at full speed but she made no attempt to evade it. Simultaneously, a rain of arrows was unleashed towards her and the remains of her own army. She faced them all unabashedly.

If she was to make her exit from this world, she had thought, at least it would be glorious.

But even such a fate was snatched away from her. By _him._

For just when the fire was about to engulf her and the arrows pierce her, Azula had felt someone shield her from the attacks. With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, she watched as the familiar figure of her brother redirected the fire from the comet and somehow deflected the arrows. Her incredulity was so great that for the first time in her life, Azula was speechless.

Unfortunately for Zuko, he was unable to deflect all of the arrows and he collapsed in a bloody heap before his little sister, who continued to stare at him in shock. He had his own fair share of battle injuries, all of which were taking their toll on him. And despite everything, the hatred and the fierce, deadly competition between them, Zuko gave his sister a weak but genuine smile.

Back in her cold stone tower, Azula clenched her fist at the memory of that smile, her lips pursed in disgust. What a ridiculous thing to do in the face of death. Even until his last breath, Zuko always managed to do something stupid, Azula thought to herself.

Leaning against the chilly rampart, the former princess fought against her fatigue and hunger and struggled to remember those maddening moments of deliverance, of her brother's self-sacrifice. Zuko had saved her life and she hated him for it.

In the madness of those final moments of her defeat and the Avatar's victory, she only managed to utter one word.

"_Why?"_

He had looked back at her with that stupid, patronizing expression of his, that hint of kindness and pity which irked her so much, and he had smiled.

"_I don't even know. All I know is, whatever else may have changed, you're still my little sister."_

She hissed sharply. It was impossible to fathom how much she had wanted to wipe that silly grin of his face. If he hadn't already been in the clutches of death, she would have killed him herself.

But she would not have had the opportunity, anyway. All of his new friends had rushed to his side. Azula vaguely remembered the sight of the waterbender who had always accompanied the Avatar, her warrior brother (Sokka was his name, she thought), the blind earthbender, and so many others. Soon, Mai and Ty Lee had arrived at the scene as well, followed by Iroh, and Ursa. The waterbender was frantically trying to heal Zuko's injuries, tears flowing down her face. Mai and the others were calling out to him, urging him to hold on, not to give up.

And soon the Avatar himself had come to his friend's side. The young airbender had a look of extreme worry on his face, despite his very recent victory and fulfillment of his destiny.

Everyone had gathered around Zuko. _She _had been forgotten. And it was well enough for her. She could do nothing more but stare incredulously at her brother's broken figure.

Zuko laid a hand gently on the waterbender's shaking palm. He shook his head sadly at the girl, who looked back at him in devastation. Azula did not remember his exact words to each and every person who wept around him. All she remembered was that Zuko was saying good-bye. Good-bye.

The others wept wildly and urged him to fight. All of them refused to believe that he was really dying. The Avatar struggled to regain his full power again, trying in vain to restore his friend's health. But through all this, Zuko shook his head sadly.

It was then that the floodgates opened, the tears fell in torrents around Azula as all those people mourned Zuko's death. There was nothing they could do to save him. He was lost forever. And it had been his choice.

And with his last breath, Zuko had made the Avatar promise him one thing.

"_Aang," the fire prince had addressed the weeping airbender, "you must promise me, promise me that…"_

Azula cringed at those final words, her brother's ultimate sacrifice.

"… _promise that you'll protect Azula."_

Azula bit her lip and leaned her head against the wall before crumpling to a heap on the floor. Her brother's last, noble request. She scoffed at the memory. There was nothing beautiful about that sacrifice.

She remembered, and she remembered well. Their glares, like daggers piercing her chest. They all had wanted her dead. She had wanted it as well.

But she had to be subjected to their hate, to their blame, to their disgust. Even the gentle-natured Avatar had seemed reluctant to fulfill his promise but he was bound to do so by his own code of honor. And no one dared defy him at that.

Nevertheless, they all hated her, and she knew it. Every single accusatory look in those pairs of eyes condemned her, made her feel the weight of their loathing.

She returned their glares steadily. Hate was not an alien feeling, it was comfortingly familiar, and she held onto it. It was better to hate than to feel regret, or remorse, or love.

Azula stared blankly at the dark, dusty walls of her chamber. Night had fallen and only the thin rays of moonlight that filtered through the narrow window of the cell served as illumination. She hugged her shoulders tightly and shivered. In an attempt to shun the cold, she struggled to remember all of the events that had led her to this dank prison cell in the middle of nowhere.

After Zuko's death, Mother had gone mad. That gentle lady's eyes glazed over and she was unable to speak for a long time. Soon, to everyone's dismay, Ursa had succumbed to her grief and entered a catatonic state. Nothing would revive her or bring her back to the world. When her son had passed, she too was lost.

_And her daughter counted for nothing, _Azula thought bitterly. To the very end, Mother thought that she was a monster and never even gave a thought to her. And of course, Azula concluded with resentment, _Mother knows best._

Zuko had been honored as a great hero, forever to be remembered for his acts of generosity and selflessness. For his supreme sacrifice and his forgiving heart. That forgiveness which caused her, Azula, so much suffering and pain.

At first, the Avatar had, against the objections of all his other friends, agreed to keep Azula in a comfortable detention cell in the Fire Nation, under maximum security. He had been willing to give her the benefit of a doubt because of Zuko's strange sacrifice for her. All his other friends (now including Mai and Ty Lee) had dissuaded him from trusting Azula but he was determined to keep his promise to Zuko.

Very few people had visited her then. Mostly, they came to yell and blame and express their hatred for her. She always found a fiery retort. But she knew and understood their detestation. She felt it as well.

_I should have died and Zuko should have lived._

It was simple as that.

Soon, the Avatar realized that even devoid of her bending, Azula was still a looming threat to peace in the Four Nations. After thwarting several of her plots to regain power, he finally gave in to his friends' suggestion of banishing her to this tower.

"You promised to protect her," Iroh had counseled the airbender, "but it is your foremost duty to protect this world from her malevolent schemes. In a way, you will be protecting her from herself as well."

And so here she was. Azula chuckled cynically at the strange twist of fate. This time, she was the banished one. But unlike Zuzu, she had no chance of redemption, only a long and tedious path to her eventual end.

There was no escape from this tower in the tundra. Every month, rations would be dropped from the top, with an experienced earthbender quickly opening and closing the tower. There was no one to defeat, control or manipulate. She had no access to civilization, she was completely isolated.

She was given only the barest necessities. There was nothing that she could use as a weapon, even against herself.

She was vaguely aware of the faint beating of her pulse. She was alive, if this wretched state could be called living.

_Damn you, Zuzu, _she cursed, finding only enough energy to feel some anger, to put the blame on someone.

_Your so-called mercy was really your final expression of hate, wasn't it? Your gift was my curse._

Azula shivered once more, taking deep breaths as she leaned against the chilly stone walls, her arms pressed against the crevices, groping in the dark for something, anything, that would make this descent, this escape easier, quicker.

But she had already done so hundreds of times. There was nothing here.

Azula turned her golden eyes around the chamber. She hated this place, this prison. With a scream of exasperation she punched her hand against one section of the wall.

And then, to her great surprise, a small block of stone became loose. Distracted by this new discovery, Azula went over to that part of the wall and tried to pry the stone loose. By some peculiar circumstance, it broke off easily, revealing a small, dark, and dusty hidden shelf of some kind.

After coughing a bit from the cloud of dust that flew into her face, Azula cleared away the cobwebs in the compartment and groped inside until her hands closed upon a comfortingly familiar object.

Carefully, and almost reverently, she pulled the object out. She blew the first coating of dust away from it and shook the rest of the filth away before taking a good look at what she held.

A small smile crept to Azula's pale but sinister lips. For in her hands she held a long, narrow knife. The craftsmanship suggested that it was a rather old piece and had been securely hidden in the secret compartment for generations. Whoever had kept it did a very good job.

Apparently, the Avatar's companions had not bothered to check the walls of the tower for any hidden compartments. All was well, Azula thought with menacing glee. The Avatar would not be able to fulfill his solemn promise to Zuko, after all. She had gotten the better of them in the end.

She turned her attention back to the knife. After examining the dagger carefully, Azula realized what kind of weapon it was. When she remembered its name, she almost laughed out loud at the irony.

_Of all knives, _she whispered, _it had to be a mercy-giver._

It was a type of dagger that was used to deliver the death-stroke (or mercy stroke) to seriously wounded soldiers, to release them from their agony. Azula had had her fair share of experience using such a weapon to dispatch her weaker adversaries and she now smiled bitterly at the twist of fate. It was just so tragically funny.

Turning the dagger this way and that, Azula saw that the metal had corroded along the edges and a coating of rust had almost completely covered the once shiny and sharp knife. But many years of disuse and storage had not rendered the dagger completely useless.

Azula played with the dagger for a few minutes before coming to a serious decision. She took another glance at the knife. Its blade may have been rusty but it was still sharp enough to serve its purpose.

Azula smiled darkly as she clutched the handle tightly and raised it high, the tip of the blade pointing at her chest. She was not afraid of the pain. In fact, this was the moment she had longed for so passionately ever since Zuko had snatched it away from her. But there would be no unwelcome interference this time. This time, there would be closure, there would be finality.

The tip of the mercy-giver glinted in the sliver of moonlight that entered the tower. Her golden eyes now focused on the blade, never wavering in their intense gaze. Her pale, bony fingers grasped the handle expertly.

_Too bad, Zuzu. In the end, your great sacrifice was for naught._


End file.
